Virtual Humanity
by Miss Myers
Summary: He had a life, once.


Notes: two years after Revolutions (the real film, not my version!). Neo was not dead. I reckon I can play on that, as it was never really _totally_ certain that he was. He just looked it!  
  
Soaring high above the bustling city, freewheeling, cold air whipping sharply and that coat, flayed out majestically in his wake. Nothing missing from this picture, the image of a modern day saviour.  
  
Touchdown on the sun drenched tarmac, the backstreet absent of life or movement. The silence was unnerving, resembling the calm before the storm. His walk was so confident, impressions of a man so sure of himself pursue, with an attitude so flawless and void of fear or doubt. He'd seen so much, he was rarely surprised. He'd felt such pain, nothing could compare.  
  
His boots clouted the pavement, his eyes narrowed behind his dark glasses. His face filled with pure loathing for the Earth. There was so much expected of him, yet no authority over him. And he'd rebelled against them all. Not just the machines, but the humans too. He'd turned his back on the world, yet in a sense he still felt some connection to the rest of his kind That's why he never directly hit out at Coppertops or those in the Real World. He vented his hurt, his anger through destroying programs. Though he had to admit, Agents and authoritative forces within the boundaries of cyberspace were most satisfying.  
  
Someone once told him he had a 'profound attachment' to the rest of his kind. No longer was that the truth. He felt betrayed by emotion, and where had doing the 'right thing' got him? It rendered him useless as a human. He felt no feelings or emotion. He'd transformed into the very thing he'd been taught to fight against- a machine.  
  
He used his powers to hit out. That was why he was here. Constantly searching for that next kill, waiting everyday for the kill that would free him to happen, though none ever did. His pain bound him completely, twisting his thoughts, and increasing his loathing for all that existed around him, each day making him more ruthless.  
  
Footsteps. Swiftly, he threw himself into a doorway, though catlike and noiseless. An Agent rounded the corner. They no longer chased rebels, not since the war 'ended' anyway. They were reprogrammed just to watch over the actions of the rebels and to keep order and they also had bodies of their own, no longer relying on host bodies. Not that he cared what they were there for. To him they were just targets for the pain that ate him up inside, writhing inside of him and slowly destroying his humanity. He was machinelike in his actions, his emotions, his thoughts- and lately in his mercilessness.  
  
Each kill he tried to make different, by making it more interesting or difficult for himself. He pushed himself to the limits and tested himself, eager to see how far he could stretch his remarkable abilities. Waiting until the Agent was level with him, he held his breath, completely unmoving. Silently he stepped out of the doorway. He'd learnt to make himself invisible almost. Often, even the most vigilant programs could not pick him up. He could tangle himself up in the code using his mind. It helped when entering in for the kill.  
  
He got incredibly close to the Agent this time. He had to admit, not as close as last time. Last time he'd managed to breathe down the guy's collar to get his attention. This time, he got at arm length before the suit-clad vigilante turned around to see him.  
  
"Shit, you."  
  
"Who else?" he replied, cocking his head on one side before he brought his foot up in a kick that connected with the Agent's chin. The agent stumbled backwards, his face contorted, but he didn't give up as easily as some. He lunged forward, aiming a left hook at his adversary's face, Neo ducked, expertly, and swept in again, dragging his foot along the ground beneath the Agents legs, bringing him crashing to the floor. Still not willing to give in, the Agent followed suit, swinging his leg out and taking the legs from under his opponent. Adeptly however, he even managed to manoeuvre his way out of this situation, flipping mid air, sailing directly over the Agent and landing on his feet on the other side. Deciding it was time to end it, he withdrew his gun and shot a hole in the Agent's head. The Agent was dead before he even saw the gun.  
  
He replaced his gun, and turned to see two familiar figures.  
  
"Neo, you have to stop this," came the voice of his mentor of old.  
  
"I don't go by that name anymore." He stated it, not daring to meet the eyes of the figures infront of him. There was an aggressive tone to his voice.  
  
"What's happened to you? You're not who you used to be." Niobe's voice was almost despairing.  
  
"We all know what you've been through Neo, and we know it's the hardest thing in the world. None of us can even begin to imagine what it must be like to be in your position, but this is not the answer. This is not the way to get through this."  
  
He flipped. "You're right, you could never understand!" he cried as he whisked the gun out of his pocket again. Then more quietly, his tone becoming subdued once more. "My life isn't worth living without her."  
  
He placed the gun at his temple and pulled the trigger. 


End file.
